Twitch
by Warfang
Summary: Leon can deal with zombies and inqusitive characters. But can he deal with Ashley cutting his hair? Platonic relationship.


Author: Warfang

Disclaimer: I have not played RE4, nor do I own it. My Uncle played, and I watched the whole time through. This thought came about from Salazar's comment on 'overconfidence'. My sister has similar plans, so the tangent resulting from my ind is thus...

"Jeez, Leon." Ashley Graham, daughter to the president, put her hands on her hips. "Your hair isn't about to cut itself."

"I don't care. It's fine the length it is."

"I can barely see your eyes. And you look goofy, not intimidating."

In the months after escaping the island, Leon had documented the files he collected, detailed the corpses he had count of, and had described the machine that removed the hatched Plagas while R&D tried to copy Luis' suppressant drugs. In a word, hectic.

Plus, everyone had a fun show watching the older-brother complex take ahold of his duty to Ashley.

Ashley still had hope that she could be Leon's special someone, and she was smart enough to know that part of his heart was not completely vacant. But pushing Leon into a relationship was not something she was inclined towards. But she had shoved him onto the chair.

Currently, they sat inside, not in the White House. Ashley had a small, part-time job in cosmetics, because her Dad refused to let her learn even karate. Being able to change one's entire look would make escaping a lot easier, though she suspected last weeks Halloween had surprised Leon.

"Fine, I'll let you trim the bangs. But nothing fancy."

Ashley refrained from rolling her eyes and pulled the blanket around his shoulders.

"Did you see yourself in any reflective surfaces back in the castle?"

Leon didn't scowl, but he did frown.

"It'll look like that, but actually clean. So I'll need.."

Leon let her voice trial off. The shop owner had let him hollow out sections in the roof so that he could keep an eye on Ashley, without opponents knowing his position. He hadn't had time to trim his hair, and now that the shortest hair reached his nose, he had planned to probably just take his knife to the locks.

Ashley had other plans.

He eyed he arsenal for getting his hair back into acceptable terms. A water bottle, comb, and scissors. Leon forced himself to take a breath.

"I'll start from the back and go forward, okay?"

Ashley sprayed his hair, the water finally working its way to the roots when she brought the comb into play. Putting the bottle down she reached for the scissors. Snip, snip. Leon twitched.

"Relax. I'm not gonna nick you."

"I know. I trust you. But that doesn't change the fact that you have a sharp object pointed at my neck. I'm just trying not bolt and kick the chair at you."

"The chair's bolted- never mind, you really could."

Snip, snip, snip.

"Well, it's still laying flat, and not because it's wet."

Ashley grabbed a mirror out of the white apron and angled it so Leon could see the back of his head. The dress code for work was black slacks, black shoes, and a casual black shirt.

"Alright. You have a point. But could you finish this up? You're next body guard is anxious to stand next to you while I teach recruits hand to hand. And your Dad is certain it's because I don't want you out of my sight, and you're not filing away information?"

"Please, Leon. As you say, part of fighting is practice. No one has told Dad that I practice with the kids in the park."

Leon hmmped. He strongly suspected that the president knew full well, and that the kids were up and coming FBI agents, or the children of most military families. All this was doing was keeping it off the record that Ashley knew how to fight.

"Leon. Don't move. I've only got one side of the front done. And you twitch every time I have to cut close to your skin."

"Sorry."

"Anyway, how did you plan to deal with this? I can't see you using hair bands."

"I was going to take my knife to it."

Ashley smacked him with a comb.

Leon twisted in his seat. "Hey-"

"Hold. Still."

Leon did not fight against the hands planted on his shoulders. Hurting the presidents daughter would land him in a world of pain, but thinking of her as just the presidents daughter was getting harder as the weeks slipped by. She had fallen down the stairs onto him just last morning, and now wore comfortable flats whenever she could get away with it.

Which seemed to be quite often.

Ashley combed out a section of Leon's hair.

"Now, this side did hang lower, but not too low."

Leon gave a faint "Yes."

She had done a complete redo of his old look. Snip, snip, snip.

Twitch.

"Leon..."

"Sorry."

Silence for a few more minutes, then, "I'm done. You can stand up now."

Ashley removed the blanket, and swept her hand over Leon's dark blue shirt, swiping off any stray hairs. Leon stood stock still until he could tactfully draw away.

"How much do I owe?"

"Oh, Mr. Kennedy, you don't have to pay."

The shop's owner, an old Lady who made her way by doing classes and celebrities, walked over.

"This was Ashley's test to earn her license in a hands-on performance. She can work part-time and earn full-time wage."

"That's good to hear." Leon nodded to the Lady. "I'll wait by the door while you clean up."

Ashley looked at Ms. Kitty. The old lady shrugged her black clad shoulders, and walked away. Ashley tidied up, sterilizing the comb and scissors, putting the mirror into the correct bag and hanging up the apron. Another worker swept up her clippings and dumped them into the garbage can.

"Thanks!" Ashley called back, catching up to Leon. They walked out of the door, disappearing halfway down an alleyway towards combat practice.

The End

So, IC? OOC? Tell me!


End file.
